


Bated

by Phylix



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Archery, M/M, Target Practice, Teasing, asshole characters, enemies to crushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24191005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phylix/pseuds/Phylix
Summary: Jesse loves to harass Hanzo while they are forced to train together. He finds it fun to annoy the stoic elder Shimada.  He is not prepared when Hanzo shows up to training without a shirt. He was not prepared at all.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 6
Kudos: 203





	Bated

Jesse had witnessed the man fire his weapon hundreds of times, either in the heat of battle or on the firing range. His aim was immaculate, able to quickly fire off arrow after arrow with a precision that even his own brother could not match. His form was like a work of art, the fluid motion with how he could draw back and release the tension of his bow in rapid-fire, all the while making kill shot after kill shot on the bots.

Even in his prime, Jesse understood how to set aside grievances and look at the skill that existed beyond a garbage personality. That was the only way he could justify working with Shimada for the first several weeks of intensive training. While none of their skills were rusty, the "teamwork" aspect required for the newly formed Overwatch was oxidized, and not one of them worked well together. 

Hanzo, it seemed, was as much of a braggart as Jesse, leading to the both of them not learning how to move fluidly as a unit, but overreaching the limits of the programs as they tried to outdo one another time after time.

A mediator was sent in, much to both of their chagrin. 

Jesse was first to watch as the elder Shimada brother trained in silence, told to literally take notes on the other man, and analyze how his own skills could be best utilized to work in tandem.

Watching Hanzo was exceedingly dull, Jesse surmised within the first ten minutes of their early training together. He stood, stoic and tall, holding his bow firmly in front of him with the arrow nocked and ready to fire. Except it was never that easy. Hanzo would stand rigid. His feet placed shoulder-width apart and waited. Every time, he made a perfect bullseye, but every damn time it would take another five to ten minutes to let loose. It also needed to be dead silent.

The silence of it all bothered Jesse more than anything. He could hear himself breath, almost to the point where he could hear the tar in his lungs rattling free. It left him alone with nothing but the voices that vibrated in his skull of people he no longer wished to hear.

The second day, he took to sketching. He was a talker, but words coming out of his hand and onto paper never worked. He wasn't a great artist, but tiny cartoons of little Hanzo's in various settings of doom and destruction were a better use of his time. He especially liked the angry Hanzo, tied up over a vat of bubbling acid while a tiny stick McCree jabbed him with one of his arrows with the caption "Get on with it" just below.

On the third day, Hanzo showed up without his battle fatigues, and instead in the regular Overwatch workout clothes. They were dark gray and unflattering, a little too baggy around his solid frame. Twice, McCree watched with jubilation, as Hanzo's footwork shifted as he readied his arrow to let fly, only to drop his stance and hike up the slipping pants.

Beggars can't be choosers when the only uniforms left were almost a decade old and out of print.

Jesse sketched a doodle of Hanzo in tighty-whities with his pants around his ankles that day. He was still in his same rigid stance. It was a masterpiece, Jesse decided and folded it up to slip under Genji's door that night.

Luckily the next several days were dedicated to Hanzo watching his ass and taking notes, which meant Jesse could play his loud music, clean his weapon, and prattle on about any nonsense he wanted. Hanzo had no choice but to silently take it, and Jesse rather liked knowing he was annoying the shit out of Shimada.

And Hanzo did take it like a champ. He sat with his head down, scribbling furiously in a notebook. Throughout the morning, his neat, scripted Kanji slowly became frantic, with deeper grooves with his pencil. Jesse, of course, teased him about it. He didn't need to know the language to understand those were all threats aimed in his direction.

After that, it seemed annoyance was the aim of the game. In the field, they worked decently well together, communicating whenever necessary, but never anything further. Outside of training, they gave sparse words to one another, usually enough to relay messages. It was a cordial relationship based on mutual distaste.

Jesse chewed the end of his pencil as he waited for Shimada to enter. He had arrived ten minutes early, knowing Hanzo would get there five minutes early, as a way to further annoy him that day. While Jesse was not a fan of spending more time with Hanzo than necessary, he also loved the idea of ruining the man's day with his mere presence.

Sure as rain in April, Hanzo stepped through the door with his gear over his shoulder, saw McCree, and frowned. Without a word, he set his stuff down and went to change as Jesse started the next random harassing Hanzo doodle. 

Today, Hanzo came back, not in his gym clothes, as Jesse had expected, or in his fatigues. Instead, he was dressed in black hakama pants, and what looked like a leather glove over his right hand, and little else.

Instantly, Jesse felt his face heat as Hanzo tied his hair back, the muscles of his chest contracting in a way that magnetized Jesse's gaze. Hanzo took little notice of the man as he moved to string up his bow and moved to the line.

Hanzo moved like water, balancing his feet out perfectly, his breath deep and even. He raised his bow up, overhead, and gripped firmly in his left hand with his back to McCree, while the right held onto the nocked arrow and bowstring.

His back was impossibly straight, leading McCree's eyes down the length of his back, and to the hem of his hakama pants, that ended just above where Jesse could see dimples. Every defined muscle was on display for him in the most erotic showing he had ever witnessed, all from a man he despised. He wanted to look away, as Hanzo drew the bowstring tight, leveling off the bow and arrow as he slowly pulled it taunt. 

It was a tease, the way Hanzo's muscles moved and ripped down his back as his shoulder blades contracted. Never in his life had Jesse seen such glorious definition, through his shoulders and out against his biceps and forearms. 

On bated breath, he waited, watching for the exact moment in Hanzo's calculating eyes of when he would let his arrow loose. How perfectly still Hanzo stayed as he lined up his shot, once again standing like a majestic statue. This time, though, Jesse felt as if his mouth were filled with cotton. He could not look away as not a piece of Hanzo twitched. Not a single muscle contracted or showed the agony of holding such a position for that length of time. Instead, the only movement came from the calm inhale and hold of breath, followed by the quiet exhale.

The bow let out a hollow twang as the arrow shot forward, straight into the center of the target with exact precision, but Jesse did not witness that. His eyes stayed transfixed on Hanzo, his right hand extended back, leaving his whole back exposed.

As slowly as before, Hanzo lowered his arms, resting them against his waist before looking back to Jesse, still gaping like a fish out of water. 

A serpent's smile crossed over that vicious face, showing just enough teeth to look sinister as he lifted a second arrow out of the full quiver by his feet. "I cannot wait to see what kind of art you will gift to my brother following today." 

Slowly, he corrected his stance, his eyes straight forwards towards his target. "Get drawing McCree, we still have a full hour left."

**Author's Note:**

> Life has kind of sucked these past few weeks, and I have been trying hard to get back into writing. I know this isn't fantastic, but I got something written in the course of an hour, and that is something I am really proud of. I am hoping to get more work accomplished sooner rather than later, but I want people to know that you need to take care of yourselves.
> 
> Comment if you like, leave kudos if you want. I feel good just knowing I have written something.


End file.
